


hold tight

by GrayJedi11



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Anxiety, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Angst, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Has Panic Attacks, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Needs a Hug, Anxious Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Angst, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Needs a Hug, Cussing, Depressed Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Depression, Food, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Panic Attacks, Self-Worth Issues, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Weird, i havent posted a single prinxiety fic ever, i wrote prinxiety, i wrote this last night and i still havent slept, if i could tag that four times itd be accurate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:40:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24292228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrayJedi11/pseuds/GrayJedi11
Summary: Roman needs Virgil, but Virgil needs Roman too.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders
Comments: 6
Kudos: 123





	hold tight

Virgil had been meaning to confront his fear of falling for ages now.

He and Roman had saved up money together to finally do it (it took quite a while), but the day had come when they would finally go skydiving together. His anxiety was through the roof, but having his boyfriend there was comforting.

The two of them were strapped into their parachutes. Roman examined his straps, tugging at them fitting tightly.

“Hey, are you okay, Ro? You seem kinda… sad.”

Roman hadn’t been the most mentally healthy person in his life, but lately he’d been doing better. For the past few months, he’d been more animated, been singing more than he used to in the darker points of his life, been more affectionate. And he seemed to think of himself as better than everyone else again.

“Nay, emo. It’s probably that I’m just as scared as you.”

“Wow, my prince is scared? That’s a first.”

The plane was high in the sky, and the world was pretty from up here. Clouds floated lazily and the blue sky complimented trees, grass, and plants below.

“Excited?”

“Terrified, drama queen.”

They were ushered out of the plane, holding hands. Virgil’s heart beat quickly, but Roman held tight, looking in his eyes. He was here. This would be okay.

_What if your parachute fails? Or you pull it too late? Or Roman’s fails?_

It’s okay. He’s here. Even if one of them fails, there are two of you.

He spun in circles with Roman for the first few moments, enjoying the height.

“This is terrifying, Roman.”

He kissed Virgil’s hands.

“It is.”

“It’s not as bad as I thought it would be. It’s kinda fun. It seems like something nice to experience twice. I might do it again someday, if I can get the money.”

Roman smiled sadly, letting go of Virgil’s hands.

“I doubt it.”

“Roman? You’re acting different, are you- oh, okay.”

Virgil watched his boyfriend drift off to the side, far away from where he could reach him. The altimeter read around 4500 feet, they should pull their cords soon. He called over to Roman as he went to do so, but stopped, because…

Roman didn’t.

In fact, he breathed deeply, looking down towards the ground. He loosened his straps, pulling them off. Virgil watched in horror as his parachute was left behind him.

He was trying to kill himself.

Virgil, still falling freely, dove in his boyfriend’s direction. Roman tried moving away, but he’d managed to grab his hand. He writhed, crying and trying to let go, but Virgil’s grip held.

“Roman, please-”

“Let go, please, I can’t, I can’t live-”

Virgil pulled him closer. They were nearing 1000 feet. They had to deploy it now.

Virgil wrapped his arms and legs around Roman, hoping it was enough to keep him from falling out of his grasp, and pulled his cord. They sobbed together as they landed hard on the ground, Virgil still holding his grip.

“I'm sorry, I’ve been trying. I’ve been trying to be happy, but I’m just not good enough. I don’t deserve it.”

“You _do_ deserve to be happy. You have no idea how much I care about you and I hate that your depression makes you feel like this. If I could take it all from you, I would. I won’t let you die.”

“I know you love me, I do, but it just gets _so_ hard. I wanted it to be poetic, maybe. I hate wanting this and I hate doing this because I love you too. I wish I didn’t want this but I want to die. I deserve to die. I wish this feeling would end, Virgil. This is the only way.”

“It’s not. We can get you help. I know we’re not exactly rich, but I’m sure we could find a way to pay for therapy-”

“We can’t, though. At least not right now.”

“Why did I waste my money on this, when I could have been helping you?”

“The money would’ve gone to food and bills, Virgil. It’s not your fault.”

“Please let me help you somehow. Tell me when you want this. I had no idea, Roman, please don’t do this. Please.”

“I’ll… I will stop lying to you. I can do that.”

The skydiving place was sympathetic towards Roman. The staff let him and Virgil sit in an empty room for a while before he was stable enough to head home. Virgil made him dinner and put on _Hercules_ to watch together. He could use a Disney movie.

Virgil held him the whole night.

~~

_I’ll wait until you get home. It’s selfish but I want to see you. I know I said it before, but this is the second time I needed to do this. I can’t do it, Virgil._

Shit, shit, shit.

He was going to try again, wasn’t he?

_Okay, Virgil, be strategic. If he’s waiting for you to get home, he’s still alive, it’s okay. You have to make sure you can get to him before he can do anything._

It had been nearly seven months since the parachute incident, and Roman had been true to his word. He let him know when he needed support, restraint from self-harm, a self-care day, even just a kiss or a hug. He’d told Virgil this week was awful. He’d needed him so much, but Virgil’s work meant he couldn’t be there for him. And look what happened.

Virgil searched the house for his boyfriend. The bathroom was empty, the living room too. The kitchen had been ransacked for seemingly the sharpest knife. 

He found him in their room with a knife pointed to his chest. There was another note set on the side table. Virgil took a deep breath, Roman couldn’t see him yet, which meant that when he did, he’d have to act fast.

He ran into the room and grabbed Roman’s arm, pinning it on the bed. This allowed him to toss the knife aside. He knew Roman would do what he could to get it back, so he did what he’d done before. He gripped his torso tight with his arms and wrapped his legs around him, rendering him incapable of doing much. They fell to the floor and Virgil buried his head in his shoulder, then kissed him and kissed him, hoping he would just feel loved again. He’d feel worth something. Or, at the very least, want to be kissed more.

“T-thank you.”

“I need you to stay alive. And I won’t read the note. I’m not going to accept that you could be dead right now. ”

Roman picked his arms up from limply spread on the floor to hold Virgil as well.

“I need to stop doing this. I’m going to hurt you.”

“This isn’t your fault, Roman.”

“But I love you and I can’t hurt you. I need to stop.”

“If that logic will stop you, I guess it’s okay. But you could never intentionally hurt me, Roman. I know that. I love you.”

He kissed his boyfriend’s cheek, who returned it. Virgil’s weight was comforting. He never wanted to leave.

The world paused for a moment. He would want to kill himself again, he knew that, but this moment was as serene as he hoped death would be. But Virgil was here. He was held, he was loved. He wouldn’t know that in death.

Virgil did leave, though, to make him some hot chocolate. They sat up until midnight playing various video games and listening to a mix of Disney ballads and a few angstier songs in the background. He didn’t laugh much, but there were a few genuine smiles.

After they’d gotten tired of the games, they turned down the music to just talk. Roman finally really told Virgil what had been going on, how he’d gotten stuck in a loop of feeling shitty and in turn, his work suffering for a while and he just felt… inadequate. Constantly.

“Your work doesn’t define you.”

“But who am I without it?”

“You. You’re you. And that’s all you need to be.”

“I still need to make money.”

“And you can do that. But it doesn’t make you worthless if it’s not perfect.”

“I’m not good enough. I can’t do anything and I tried to kill myself because of that and I’m even _worse_ because I’m not strong enough to live.”

“You’ve survived a suicide attempt two times now, and so many days when you’ve told me you’d rather be dead.”

“Three,” he whispered.

“Ro-?”

“When I was sixteen.”

“You… never told me.”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t-”

“No, it’s okay. I just- I’m sorry.”

~~

“When will this end?”

“Hmm?”

“It’s only been three months, Virgil. Why won’t it stop?”

Since… the knife.

His eyes welled up with tears and he wiped them away, then kissing Virgil. He stared into his boyfriend’s eyes, admiring the hazel speckles. Thoughts raced through both of their heads, fears, hopes, fantasies.

“I’m gonna... go to the bathroom.”

Virgil grabbed his wrist before he left the bed.

“You just went.”

“I…”

“Stay.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“You asked me ‘when will this end?’ Of course I don’t trust your brain right now. And it’s your mental health, not you, I don’t trust.”

Roman sighed, but laid back down, allowing Virgil to hold him again.

“Were you going to do anything?”

“I- I don’t have many options. Please let me leave.”

“You have the option to cuddle me. I’m not letting you go. I’m not letting you get hurt, or die, or _anything_.”

Virgil took his protective position again, arms and legs holding onto his boyfriend tight and affectionate. He would know, even if he was asleep, if Roman had left. Roman knew this too. He couldn’t die tonight.

“I don’t want you to be scared for me every time you leave the house.”

“I don’t want you to feel like this.”

“I’m sorry for tonight.”

“... _Were_ you planning anything?”

Roman sighed. 

“Yeah. I was gonna…”

“You don’t have to say.”

“I… do you want to know?”

“I do kinda want to understand how you feel.”

“I might have ended up not even doing it, but… I was gonna take as many of the aspirins as I could. And then cut my wrists and arms and stare at myself in the mirror as I bled out. Wondering if you would find me.”

“I’m hiding the knives.”

“Hey, what about cooking?”

“I’d rather you be alive than have chopped carrots.”

“You could just hug me.”

“That works.”

“I feel like we’re kind of… avoiding it, though. Therapy. You really need it.”

He’d had a few appointments in the past year, and even less the year before. It was expensive and they didn’t always have much money to spare. Whenever they had enough, they got a session for him. They helped, Virgil could tell.

“Yeah… We don’t really have the money and I often don’t have the time.”

“We could try online therapy. It’s cheaper and more flexible.”

“I mean… that makes sense.”

“Is there something wrong with it?”

“No, it’s fine, I’ll do it, I need it.”

“It’s just… sometimes I don’t… want to feel better. It feels like it’s never gonna come, so why try?”

“It’ll come, Roman.”

~~

It had been two years since Roman had hit a few of his darkest moments. Online therapy had helped a great deal, and it didn’t hurt that his work was getting him more money than it used to. It made Virgil happy every single day to see Roman becoming himself more and more. The drama had come back, his passion, and he sang every day. Under his breath, out loud, ballads just for Virgil. And it was real.

Virgil put all of his love into helping Roman heal. His boyfriend had suggested that he was putting too much in, but he refused that. He needed it. Of course he was going to put a lot in.

The truth was, it did hurt him. He spent so much time needing to save Roman, and that was okay for a while. But even after he was getting better, he was terrified that he wasn’t doing enough for his boyfriend. That he was going to get hurt again and it would all go wrong. His anxiety tortured him about money for therapy and food, even though their income was getting better. Part of him was scared Roman was lying. That he would come home one day and find a dead body.

At least, that’s where it stemmed from. What mostly happened was his anxiety getting more severe. It had happened at other times in his life, but they’d faded at some point. Roman had offered they pay for his therapy as well, but he rejected it over and over.

And it wasn’t Roman’s fault. They could have used some time apart, it’s true, but Roman didn’t do anything wrong. Rather, he was the reason it didn’t get even worse than it was. Virgil figured the point where it got severe was going to happen anyway. His mental health seemed to do that.

He’d also noticed something from his early teenage years come back. For about a year when he was thirteen and fourteen, he was diagnosed with mild depression.

He hoped it wasn’t really happening again.

Roman is the one that’s struggling. He should be worried about Roman. He doesn’t matter as much as Roman does. It would be fine, it would end like it did before.

Roman got increasingly more worried as Virgil was less attentive to activities together, more worried about Roman’s (increasingly better) mental health, caring less about his own self care. He used to subconsciously tap to the beat while listening to music, but it stopped. The songs got darker, sadder, slower. He constantly looked like he was about to break down.

“You doing good today, Roman?”

“I’m wonderful, darling. I think the better question is, are _you_ okay, Virgil?

“I’m- of course, I’m fine.”

Roman wrapped his arms around Virgil’s torso, who was chopping onions for their dinner tonight.

“You don’t seem like it. You’re stressed.”

“I’m fine.”

“C’mon, Virge. You’re gonna relax.”

Roman pulled him away from his onions and brought him back to their room, sitting him down on the bed and retrieving his ukulele from the wall. He began picking at it, playing the beginning to “Welcome to the Black Parade,” which elicited a grin from Virgil.

“Could I try?”

Roman was surprised. Virgil wasn’t much of a musical person, but he handed it over.

He started slowly picking at the strings, and it looked like he’d practiced it a few times. The first four notes were the same, then it jumped up higher for three notes, and then-

“Virgil!”

“I rickroll you too much. You recognized that way too fast.”

Roman grabbed a pillow and whacked Virgil softly with it, who put the ukulele aside to grab his own pillow, much more ruthless with his attacks.

“Pillow fights aren’t supposed to be violent!”

“They’re literal fights! And you started it!”

They laughed until they couldn’t anymore, and then cuddled. Virgil leaned his head and shoulders against the backrest, Roman’s head on his chest and arms wrapped around his boyfriend.

“We need to make dinner.”

“Dinner can wait. I brought you here ‘cause you’re stressed. What’s going on?”

“Just… worried about you, I guess.”

“I’m doing better, Virgil. I’m going to be okay. I just wanna make sure you are.”

“I am, I don’t feel nearly as bad as you did.”

“Your feelings are still valid. If you don’t feel good, you can ask for help. C’mon, tell me how you really are.”

“I guess you _are_ right.”

“I’m always right.”

“You’re not always-”

“Talk about your feelings.”

Virgil sighed, smiling.

“I don’t know. I mean, you are right, I am much more stressed than I was. Even when everything’s going well, I can’t seem to accept it. Like, the more money we make, the more worried I am we _won’t_ have money. I guess I just keep overthinking things. And it’s been harder to work and I feel lazy for that, but it just takes so much more energy to do things. It’s not limited to work, either. Having fun gets tiring. Is that weird?”

“No, not at all. I know how you feel.”

“I can enjoy things. I can. But it’s hard, and I have to get through everything else first, and that’s all worse, and I don’t know… I don’t know if I even deserve it.”

Roman kissed him unexpectedly, one arm still wrapped around his torso and the other moving up to grab his neck. He tightened his grip, pulling his own torso against Virgil as close as possible.

“Of _course_ you deserve it.”

“I- Roman-”

The pair of them had, for the most part, become desensitized to things that would make them blush, but this had Virgil bright red.

“You’re a lovely, beautiful, wonderful human being and of _course_ you deserve to be happy. I wouldn’t have been with you for all these years if I thought you didn’t. I love you. More than anything.”

“I wasn’t good enough to make you want to stay alive.”

“Don’t think that. Don’t ever think that. I only ever did that because I didn’t think _I_ was good enough for you. I loved you and I wanted to be with you, but I convinced myself I was hurting you and I didn’t deserve to want that. You did make me want to stay alive. Only I made myself want the opposite.”

“I think I want what you wanted. N-not dying, I couldn’t lose you and everything I have, but pain. Hurting myself in some way. That’s why I’ve been especially stressed lately. Saturday, it didn’t last long, but I wanted to punch myself because I hated… whatever this is. This feeling is so different and so horrible. I was so stressed out for no reason and I thought maybe it would help but I knew it wouldn’t and I didn’t but I felt like it could and I’m so sorry I should be trying to help you it doesn’t matter I’m going to be fine and if I just ignore this then I can-”

“Hey, hey, hey, V. You’ve done so much for me. Let me do it for you.”

“But what if it happens again? What do I do when it happens? Will I be able to ignore it like I did? What happens if I do end up hurting myself? Will I always just hit myself, or what if it gets so bad I cut and I can’t stop doing it and what if I cut and cut and cut and I die, what if I die, Roman I can’t do that to-”

“Virgil. Five things you can see?”

“Blood, there’ll be blood-”

“There’s no blood here.”

“Uh, I can see, I can see you, and, and my arms. I could cut them someday they might bleed and-”

Roman pulled Virgil towards him so his face was over his shoulder and he couldn’t see his arms anymore.

“What else?”

“Th-the clock.”

“Mhm.”

“That weird picture of the hot air balloon like the parachute what if-”

“No what-if’s.”

“And th- the pillow.”

“Good. Four things you can feel.”

“Your neck, it’s, it’s so warm, you’re so warm. You’re not cold, you’re warm, but-”

“I’m going to stay warm.”

“Hoodie.”

“Okay.”

“My nails- shit.”

Roman lifted Virgil’s hands with his own, who allowed his fists to unclench and reveal nail-shaped indents. He laced his fingers in Virgil’s shaking ones.

“Blanket.”

“Three things you can hear?”

“Cars. And my- my breathing. And- and-”

“Yeah?”

“You.”

“Two things you can smell.”

“Onions. Shampoo.”

“One thing you can taste.”

Virgil leaned back to kiss his boyfriend, crying and shaking. He let out a deep breath.

“You.”

“Please don’t let go of me, Roman.”

“I won’t.”

Virgil closed his eyes and leaned into Roman’s chest, who held him tight and secure.

“C-can you do the thing? That I did to stop you from-”

Roman obliged, wrapping himself around Virgil’s thin body. His arms were constricted as tight as they would go, his legs wrapping around him as well. He was heavier than Virgil, so his weight felt even more secure.

“I’m sorry, Roman.”

“It’s okay, Virgil. You didn’t do anything wrong. None of this is your fault.”

“I should be happy for you, you’re doing better. But I’m not.”

“You aren’t required to feel a certain way. Sometimes people are just sad. Like I was. Like I still am sometimes.”

“I’m going to hurt you, though. Your depression didn’t just go away, you’re still gonna need help sometimes. What happens if I can’t give it?”

“You’re my boyfriend. You shouldn’t be the one responsible for that. And you’re right, it didn’t just suddenly go away, but that doesn’t mean I’m not healthy enough to help support you. If it gets to be too much, I can tell you. We can share money for therapy and spend some time apart. We’ll be okay, no matter what happens.”

“I love you, Roman. I would do everything I did for you a million times over, and I know I shouldn’t say it but I would sacrifice my life, my happiness, anything just to know you’re going to be okay. Thank you so much. For living, and for being here for me. I love you.”

“I love you too.”


End file.
